


He Didn't Care, Until He Did

by NikAdair



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Isolation, Keith doesn't care, Lance doesn't know, Self-Harm, implied klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikAdair/pseuds/NikAdair
Summary: He didn't care. Didn't care if he ate. Didn't care if he talked to someone. He didn't care. His thoughts were the only company he had, and they were bad company. He just didn't care. Maybe Lance could change that.





	He Didn't Care, Until He Did

Keith’s chest ached, a dull throb where his heart was. His throat was constricting, and his eyes stung. He clenched his jaw, his hands shaking a little. He wasn’t going to cry. Keith wouldn’t let himself cry. Not again. His arms ached, where faded scars hid under long sleeves. He balled his hands, feeling tears prick in the corners of his eyes. His breathing started to speed up, as did his heart.

Those damn thoughts were back, telling Keith he was alone, he was worthless, unwanted, unloved. He knew they were wrong, that he wasn’t those things, but they were so loud, so consuming, it was hard for him not to believe them. Music couldn’t drown out the thoughts, couldn’t make them stop. Keith felt the tears threatening to fall.

He changed his playlist, knowing that upbeat music wasn’t going to help. He turned it to his sad playlist. Maybe not his best idea, but it helped. Helped him figure out his feelings, let him think through his thoughts, even if it didn’t always make them go away. It didn’t drive him crazy like upbeat music did during this, didn’t conflict with what he was being told. He felt the tears starting to fall.

He scratched at his arm through his sleeve, the need to cut becoming stronger. Keith dug his nails into the palms of his hands, something to distract him. It wasn’t enough. He was frustrated, annoyed, sad, empty. He punched his wall, feeling the pain radiating up his arm. The need to cut subsided a little, but not enough. He punched it again.

He pulled his knees to his chest, cradling his hand as he cried, his breathing verging on hyperventilating. Useless, pathetic, worthless, alone, unwanted, unloved over and over in his head. Keith cried harder, scratching at his arms again. Die die die. His thoughts replaced with a single one. He couldn’t take it.

He wailed, pushing his sleeves up. Grabbing the blade, he cut. He cut to feel something, to get rid of the need, to get the voices to shut up. He didn’t know how many cuts he’d made. His arm was a bloody mess. He dropped the blade, grabbing an old shirt, pressing it against his arm. It stung, and he hissed at the pain. But the voices had stopped.

He was tired. Tired from crying. Tired from fighting. Tired from everything. He was so so tired. Tossing the shirt away, he stood, walking to his bed. He fell onto it, not bothering to change. It didn’t really matter, he never left his home. He barely left his room. Keith barely ate, barely talked. He’d lost all passion for the things he used to love, instead staying in the isolation of his room. He pulled the blanket around him, pulling it close to his body.

His head hurt, pounded, and his eyes stung. Dried tear tracks stained his cheeks. He stared at the wall across from him, unable to sleep. Keith was tired, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He spent hours like this, staring at the wall, thinking of nothing, willing himself to sleep. Sleep was easier. Sleep was where the voices couldn’t attack him. Sleep was where he didn’t have to be.

He finally found that darkness, that quiet that he needed. It was empty, dark, silent. He enjoyed it. He slept for hours, his body lacking the energy to wake up. He didn’t care. No one cared. No one checked on him. No one talked to him. No one made him eat. Keith didn’t care. He had his darkness, his silence. That’s all he needed.

When he woke up, it was night again. He’d slept the day away. He shrugged and rolled over, closing his eyes. His stomach twisted, but he ignored it. His body was too tired to get up. His arms burned, itched, but he ignored that too. He didn’t have the energy to get up to fix it. His phone had died from playing music, but he didn’t care. No one ever talked him, so why would he? His breathing deepened and he fell asleep.

Keith slept for so long, it felt like days. When he woke up, he wasn’t in his room. There was a bright light shining in his eyes. He squinted and tried to sit up. It was difficult, but he eventually sat up. Keith still couldn’t see, but there was a chemical smell in the air. His arms felt heavy, and there was a beeping sound next to him. His eyes finally adjusted, and he saw he was in the hospital. But how?

Keith turned his head, and saw someone sitting in the chair. It took him a moment to figure out who it was. Lance. He was confused. Lance hadn’t talked to him in days, hadn’t checked on him, hadn’t seen him. So why was he here? He tried to say his name, but nothing came out. His throat was so dry.

He took the pillow he was leaning against and threw it at Lance. It barely made it to his lap, and Lance jumped, waking up. His eyes widened when he saw Keith sitting there, and he sped over there, sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes were red rimmed, and he could see new tears forming. It was hard to focus on what he was saying, but he felt Lance’s hand take his, squeezing it tightly, as though he would disappear.

He shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to get his thoughts together. Figure out what happened. He couldn’t remember. Keith knew he’d fallen asleep, but that was it. When had Lance come? When had he gotten here? Why was he here? He felt Lance squeezing his hand again, calling his name.

“…th? Keith?” His voice was full of worry, and Keith turned his head to look at him. “What are you thinking?” His voice cracked, and Keith saw tears falling. He felt his chest tighten, his own eyes filling with tears. He reached a shaky hand towards him, holding his face. He wiped the tears away, and Lance closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

“I was so worried. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days, but you wouldn’t answer. I thought maybe you were mad at me. And then yesterday, I had a bad feeling, so I came over. Your door was unlocked, thank god. You wouldn’t wake up. Keith, you looked so thin, so pale. I was so scared. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought you here.” Keith nodded, his brain working slowly to process everything.

“Your arms looked so bad. The doctors… they don’t trust you to be alone. But I refuse to let them take you anywhere else.” He took a deep breath, looking down at his lap. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, what you’ve been thinking, but I want to. I want to understand. I want to help. Please let me help…” He voice was quiet, tentative, scared, and it made Keith’s heart hurt.

He squeezed Lance’s hand, causing him to look up. He cleared his throat, hoping words would come out this time. Taking a breath, he spoke, his voice a little raspy. “It’s hard to explain. It’s a lot of one word phrases, feelings, thoughts of doing things. Imagine being in a dark hallway. You know there’s an exit at the end, but you can’t see it. You can’t see anything. You’re running, but it doesn’t feel like you’re making progress. You feel empty, numb, alone.”

His voice was shaking, but he kept going. “It makes you want to give up. Those words, those phrases, they invade your mind, and you start to believe them. They beat you down until you can’t escape. It makes you want to disappear.” His voice was barely above a whisper on the last part. They sat there in silence, and Keith waited for Lance to say something. He wasn’t expecting the hug he got instead. It was tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, something Keith hadn’t felt in months. It made him feel safe. He let himself fall into it.

“God Keith, I know I should’ve asked, but why didn’t you tell me this sooner? I could’ve at least been there for you, even if I couldn’t help.” Keith shook his head, feeling tears falling onto Lance’s shirt. “Please… please tell when this happens again. I can’t let you suffer alone. I might not be able to do much, but I can at least make sure you’re not alone.”

Keith nodded, letting himself cry. It felt like so long since someone had hugged him, talked to him, and it was a little overwhelming. Lance’s offer to help made him want to tell him, made him want to let him in. He should. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Not when he had Lance. Lance made him feel safe, made his want to try. They broke the hug, Keith looking into Lance's eyes.

"I'll try. I don't know how, but I'll try." He squeezed Lance's hand. "Thank you Lance." Lance nodded, wiping his eyes. Keith leaned back, tired from the crying. He felt Lance climb onto the bed next to him, hugging him. Keith let him. He felt like he needed the contact. It made him feel like he wasn't as broken as he felt. And maybe Lance could help, even if it's just a little. He would worry about the future later. But for now, he would focus on this moment, the safety and warmth he felt.


End file.
